


A Three-in-the-Morning Situation

by Flavato_Forever



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy not-so-patiently puts up with Toby's antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7125277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flavato_Forever/pseuds/Flavato_Forever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy Quintis one-shot: a storm leads to the team spending the night at the garage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Three-in-the-Morning Situation

Happy leaned back against the sofa, only half trying not to fall asleep.

  
They hadn’t even had a case that day, but she’d been at the garage for eleven hours and she was exhausted. The morning started with a pipe bursting over Sly’s desk, ruining all his paperwork and his computer. The burden had somehow fallen on Happy to fix the pipe -- as if her mechanical expertise gave her an intimate knowledge of mid-century plumping -- so she’d spent three hours on a ladder, trying to figure out how to stop the leaking. Minutes after she finally convinced Walter to call an actual plumber, Cabe came back from the store saying his car’s check-engine light was on. She actually knew how to deal with _that_ problem, but it didn’t really make the time spent out in the LA heat any more pleasant. Once that crisis was handled, Paige came over to ask about a problem with Happy’s last case report -- and so the rest of the day had gone.

  
Now, it was nine at night and pouring rain outside, and Toby was groaning about having to get home in the standstill traffic.

  
“I swear, people in this city think driving in rain is more dangerous than driving in the snow. It’s ridiculous. We’ll never get home.”

  
Ralph, who was doing homework beside the psychiatrist, looked up from his textbook.

  
“Why don’t we all just sleep here, then?”

  
Everyone looked around at each other. They’d never done that before, all slept at the garage, but at that moment, listening to rain pelt down on the roof with alarming force, it sounded like a good idea.

  
“Solid plan, kid,” Cabe said after a minute, clapping Ralph on the shoulder. “Walt, you got any blankets in here, man?”

  
“Sure.” Walter got up from his desk and went upstairs, reappearing a minute later with a pile of blankets.

  
“I’m calling the couch,” Cabe said.

  
“Whoa, back up -- why do you get the couch?” Toby looked much more offended, Happy thought, than the occasion really called for.

  
Cabe smirked. “When you're my age, you’ll understand.”

  
Happy begrudgingly got up from the soft sofa so the agent could lie down, and then helped the rest of the team set up blanket beds across the garage floor. She wondered idly whether or not Paige would go sleep with Walter, but the woman didn’t move when he went upstairs.

  
Toby dragged his blanket right next to Happy’s, making her smile. He didn’t come to bed when she lay down, though; he stayed at his desk, doing something on his computer. She considered calling him over, but -- despite her shoulder blades and hip bones pressing painfully into the floor -- the storm and the sound of Sylvester’s quiet snoring were quickly lulling her to sleep. She was out in less than a minute.

* * *

 Happy was in the middle of one of those not-quite-scary-but-definitely-weird dreams when she was shaken awake. The fog in brain quickly cleared, though, and was replaced with adrenaline. She pulled an arm back to shove her attacker off, before recognizing him as Toby.

  
Her boyfriend was wrapped in a fuzzy blue blanket, eyes much too alert for the late hour.

  
“Toby?”

  
“Hey Happy.”

  
“What the hell are you doing?”

  
“Keep it down; you’re gonna wake everyone up.” His voice was a soft whisper.

  
Happy sat up groggily and rubbed her eyes before checking her watch, which she had been too tired to take off before going to bed: 3:17.

  
“Toby, it’s three in the morning.”

  
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that there’s a slight... situation.”

  
“ ‘Situation’?”

  
“Well, so I’m allergic to bees, right? I mean, wasps and hornets and yellowjackets too, all those things -- and shellfish, oddly enough, though that’s not really pertinent to this particular situation, but it is interesting, considering--”

  
“Toby,” Happy interrupted. “Three. A. M.”

  
“Right, right. So if I get stung by a bee, it’s bad news, right?”

  
He paused, and it took Happy a second to realize he was waiting for a response. She nodded, thinking that his blanket looked exceptionally cozy -- she was jealous; she’d gotten a scratchy wool one.

  
“There’s a bee in here. I need to get it out, but I don’t want to get stung.”

  
“You woke me up in the middle of the night to catch a _bee?”_

  
“Well, I mean, I knew you weren’t allergic, and I really don’t want to have to go the hospital tonight, so...”

  
Happy closed her eyes, wondering what on Earth she had done to deserve this. She was going to say no -- this man had more degrees than she could count; he was definitely capable of killing a bee without getting stung -- but then she thought back to earlier in the day when he’d brought her a glass of water while she was sweltering outside in front of Cabe’s SUV. The memory brought up some benevolence in her, despite the fact that it was taking all the willpower she had just to keep her eyes open.

  
“Fine. Where’s the bee?"

  
Toby’s face lit up with gratitude. “On Walt’s desk. Or, at least, that’s where it was when I last saw it. I kind of bailed out as soon as I realized there was an anaphylactic-shock-inducing creature in the vicinity. Didn’t stick around to see if it looked like it was on the move.”

  
Happy rolled her eyes. Even at this hour, he found the energy to annoy her.

  
She pushed herself up off the floor and walked over to Walter’s desk, careful not to disturb any of the sleeping members of their pseudo-slumber party. Sure enough, there was a small bee resting on their boss’s keyboard.

  
She glanced around for something to whack it with, settling on a nearby case file. It was a quick affair; the bee didn’t even try to dodge her attack. She then used the file to push it into the trash.

  
Toby walked over gingerly.

  
“Did you get it?”

  
“Yeah, it’s dead.”

  
“My hero,” he said in a sing-song voice.

  
He opened his arms to hug her, the blanket forming a kind of cloak. In the dark garage, blue light from the computer screen casting shadows across his face, he almost reminded her of Dracula. She leaned into the embrace.

  
“Why were you awake, anyway?”

  
“ _Pirates of the Caribbean_ marathon.” He grinned. “Once I watch one, I have to watch them all. Kind of like potato chips, except with Keira Knightley.”

  
“How were you watching a movie?”

  
“Movie _s_ ,” he corrected. “On my computer. I was using headphones, so as not to disturb you all. You’re welcome, by the way.” He smiled at Happy’s annoyed look. “And did you know that Walt doesn’t like those movies? Can you imagine?”

  
Happy shrugged. “Never seen ‘em.”

  
Toby’s jaw actually dropped, as if they were in some seventies cartoon.

  
“You’ve never seen _any_ of the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ movies?”

  
“Nope.”

  
“Okay, we’re rectifying that right now.” He dropped the blanket on the floor and put his hands on her shoulders, apparently trying to steer her towards his computer, but she jerked away from his reach.

  
“Whoa, slow down. It’s still three in the morning, jackass. I’m going back to bed.”

  
“How can you sleep knowing there are four cinematic masterpieces you haven’t seen?”

  
Happy scoffed. “I think I’ll manage.”

  
“But _I_ won’t, Happy. Please. For my sake.”

  
“Toby, I’m dead tired right now." He looked at her with such earnestness that she actually started to feel guilty. “But if you really care about these movies that much, I can come over to your place and we can watch them tomorrow.”

  
Toby smiled triumphantly. “Perfect. Make sure you reserve at least ten hours of your day, though, honey; there’s a lot of Jack Sparrow screen time to catch up on.”

  
“Why don’t we just watch one?”

  
“No can do, Hap. Potato chips, remember?”

  
She shook her head. “Fine. But you better have popcorn.”

  
“Oh, don’t worry, I will.” He kissed her cheek. “I await our movie date eagerly, babe. Now go to sleep. It’s three am.”


End file.
